


What Do the Lonely Do At Christmas?

by wrecklessrighter



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrecklessrighter/pseuds/wrecklessrighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first Christmas Caroline's had to spend without her mother and she wants to believe that if she can make everything look perfectly reminiscent of their past Christmases, it might not be as lonely. But it turns out what she thought was perfect wasn't what she needed at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do the Lonely Do At Christmas?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Writerwithagoal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerwithagoal/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, darling! This was the most bittersweet KC thing I've ever written. I hope you love it!

_…Tis the season to be jolly,  
_ _but how can I be when I have nobody?  
_ _The yule tide carol doesn’t make it better,  
_ _knowing that we won’t be together.  
_ _A silent night, I know it’s gonna be.  
_ _Joy to the world but it’s gonna be sad for me…  
  
_ Christmas Eve was on the rise, but Mystic Falls was a ghost town. There were no tidings illuminated in twinkling lights and no sounds of joyous laughter or holiday cheer. Just chilled air and shadows of memories. Lockwood manor wasn’t holding their traditional Christmas Eve soiree. The Mystic Grille wasn’t hosting its yearly eggnog tasting contest. And Mystic High wasn’t having their Winter Wonderland dance. The whole town was blanketed in silence, and the holidays were but a whisper.  
  
They had lost so much so soon that the small town began to feel even smaller. Their integrity and sense of community was dwindling so it seemed pointless to celebrate this year.  
  
But that wouldn’t stop Caroline Forbes from upholding her own holiday traditions.  
  
“Okay, people. The cookies are in the oven and the eggnog is chilling in the fridge. Let’s get these decorations in order. I want this place in tip top shape within the next hour.” She glanced over to where the tree was erected with her hands on her hips and a condescending tilt of her head. “Damon. Why is the tree not lit yet?"  
  
He turned around with his usual sardonic expression. “One of the bulbs is out so the entire thing went dead.”  
  
“So find the bulb and fix it. I have spares.”  
  
He gaped at her. “Yeah, let me just sit and go through a zillion tiny light bulbs just to find the one dud. I can’t think of a _single_ better way to spend my night.”  
  
Caroline rolled her eyes, scoffing his resentment off and grabbed the tangled lights from him, pushing past him. “Here, crybaby.” She threw a box with brand new lights at him. He caught it with a glare and shortly went back to his job.”That doesn’t go _there_ ,” she berated Enzo as she rushed to snatch the toy soldier away from him. “Just…go hang some tinsel or something. Let me do this.”  
  
"Remind me why I agreed to this torture again?” Damon grumbled.   
  
Bonnie shrugged. "Because I threatened to hurt you if you didn't."  
  
Caroline rolled her eyes and ignored them as she set the soldier alongside his brethren on the mantle, adjusting it strategically.  
  
“Ease up, gorgeous.” Enzo walked up behind her and rubbed her back in circles. “Everything will be as you want it. Just tell us what to do next.”  
  
She breathed out slowly as he rubbed away some of her tension and nodded. She was holding it together remarkably well, considering, but it seeped out between the cracks of her perfectionism. The dread of inevitable loneliness. She wanted nothing more than to bake cookies, drink eggnog, and watch _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ like she did every year. But she couldn’t stomach it alone. So she’d forfeited the lifelong tradition in place of a holiday get together with the last few and willing friends she had left. It took some convincing but she even managed to recruit Damon who would never in a million years commit to any holiday. Although she had a sneaking suspicion agreed so he wouldn't have to face his own battle with loneliness. After all, Elena was gone and Stefan had run off from all responsibility. What choice did he have than to help her, Bonnie and Enzo to decorate and celebrate?  
  
“Centerpiece is done!” Bonnie announced.  
  
When she turned around, Caroline smiled in approval at the arrangement of candles and poinsettias. With a flick of her wrist, Bonnie set the candles alight and smiled smugly.  
  
“Awesome.” Caroline beamed, clasping her hands together as she regained her authority. “Now we just need garland around the mantle. And lights. Enzo, you’re in charge of the winter village. And Damon, when you’re doing the tree, _please_ make sure the fake snow doesn’t go all over. I want it _lightly_ sprinkled on the pine, okay? But not too lightly. It should look like frost, not dandruff.”  
  
“Come on Blondie, give it a break. It already looks like Christmas threw up in here,” Damon pointed out snarkily.  
  
“It _is_ a little much,” Bonnie agreed. “Besides, Christmas is supposed to be about spending time together, not about decorating.”  
  
“What is so wrong about wanting everything to be festive?” She sighed, relenting a little. “I just need this to be perfect, okay?”  
  
Damon snorted. “What you _need_ is a drink. Or maybe some prozac.”  
  
“Less sarcasm and more stringing okay?!” she snapped. “Just…make with the lights. I’m going to check on the cookies.”  
  
He raised his hands in surrender and went back to work. She huffed and brushed her hair out of her face as she stalked into the kitchen, wringing her hands tensely. When she reached the countertop, she leaned over it and rested her head on the cool marble letting all energy drain out of her in a heavy sigh. _You’re fine,_ she assured herself. _Everything is going to be fine._ If she could just get it together and trick herself into believing that, she might be able to get through the rest of the night. Christmas was a happy time, and she was going to be happy, damn it.  
  
Lifting herself up, she walked over to peek inside the oven to check the cookies. They were only half risen so she shut it and went to pour herself some eggnog, making a mental checklist in her head of what still had to be done. Tree. Village. Lights. Mantle. Dinner. Presents. Everyone had their assignments, so why was it so hard to follow through? And why was it so hard to understand that she needed things to be a certain way? They all knew she was a neurotic control freak, so it seriously shouldn’t have surprised them that she would take charge and demand perfection.  
  
Sure, the holidays weren’t _really_ about the most blinking lights, or prettiest centerpieces, or the fullest pine you could find to stick up in your living room. But it wasn’t _really_ about that for her either. Everything in her life had been going so horribly wrong lately that she just wanted at least one day to go _right._ Maybe it wouldn’t make up for everything she’d lost, but it would make her feel some semblance of whole again.  
  
She downed the rest of her eggnog in one gulp and took a deep breath, pushing the emotions down. She hadn’t spent the week training them just to lose it over one silly holiday.  
  
When she’d regained her control, she headed back into the living room but came to a dead halt in the doorway. Her eyes bulged at what she saw.  
  
“What the _hell_?!”  
  
All three heads turned, paused in what they were doing. It was a totally horrifying mess. The ornaments were misplaced, the lights were not hung precisely as she’d instructed, and the tree was turned the wrong way so she could see gaping spaces between the branches. And now that the wreath Bonnie had brought was hung, it looked flimsy and totally not up to Forbes standard. And why was the winter village all pushed together on the TV stand and not spread out between the three windows like it was supposed to be?!  
  
Her heart clenched with a tumult of emotions. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was all _wrong_! How could they do this to her?! She stomped over to Enzo first, grabbing a town house from the stand.  
  
“Do you have _any_ concept of placement? The houses should be spread out by the windows, not all squished together. It is a village, not a strip mall!” Enzo gaped at her as she moved on to Bonnie next. “And that is _not_ how I said to put the lights around the fireplace.”  
  
“You said to put them on the garland…”  
  
“I said to wrap them _around_ the garland, not just lay them on _top_!” She whipped around then, her index finger aimed at Damon. “And why is the tree turned?”  
  
He rolled his eyes and shot her an impatient look. “Because I _turned it.”  
  
_ “Well turn it _back._ I want the fullest side facing outward. And there should be no empty spaces seen between the ornaments. Seriously! How hard is it to just follow directions?”  
  
“Okay, you know what, I’m done.” He threw his hands up. “I didn’t ask to be a part of this. If you don’t like it, you can do it yourself."  
  
Caroline’s glare hardened. "Right because the world would end if Damon Salvatore ever did anything for anyone besides himself!"  
  
"Hey, I came didn't I?"  
  
"Yes and your presence has been such a gift!"  
  
"Guys, stop it. It's Christmas," Bonnie pleaded.

"Tell _her_!" Damon argued, pointing at her. "She's the slave driver!"  
  
"Excuse me?!"

"You know I lost people too. but you don't see me stomping around barking orders like a complete _bitch.”  
  
_ "Damon!" Bonnie yelled in scolding.  
  
Enzo sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”   
  
Caroline let out a shrieking groan and pressed her fingers to her temples, shutting here eyes against the prickle of tears. “I can’t do this.” She let out a shaky breath and tightened her facial muscles, forcing an authoritative stance. "I'm going to get some air and when I get back, none of you better be here.”  
  
With that, she stormed into the kitchen, making for the back door, and stepped out into the cold air. She had purposely neglected to grab her coat, wanting to feel the sting of the cold air otherwise her tears might fall and she’d been so desperately trying not to shed anymore tears over her life. She shivered despite herself as a light breeze blew by and crossed her arms and rubbed them, shaking her head in disappointment as she looked out at the trees as they turned into brown and white blurs, the tears winning the longstanding battle.  
  
"Hello, Caroline," a soft voice murmured from behind her.  
  
The tears stopped instantly and her eyes widened, air caught in her throat. She turned around, lips trembling from the cold as the stream of breath she exhaled when she said his name turned to fog. He stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes as sad as she felt. But a different kind of sad. Whereas she was grieving her losses, he seemed to be grieving _her_. Or was that just the nostalgia?  
  
Snow crunched under his every step as he inched towards her with hesitation, waiting for her refusal. And yet, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, couldn’t blink the astonishment out of her eyes no matter how many times she tried. Even as she questioned the relief in her chest at the sight of him, all she could think about was the fact that he was there. That he came back.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked, even though it really wasn’t what she wanted to say, but all she could muster.  
  
He looked up with a tiny, gallic shrug. "I was in town..."  
  
It was the oldest line in the book and he knew it by the trolling look on his face, and yet that somehow made her feel better. His consistency was at least one thing in her life she could always rely on.  
  
"I wanted to see how you were,” he amended quietly.  
  
She scoffed softly, a breath of a laugh, unable to refrain from the inevitable eyeroll that he always incited. He smiled warmly at her response and she knew he would. Whether or not it was intentional, their pretend dismissal of one another to cover their affections seemed to be their unspoken _thing._ As he neared, his expression began to soften, likely because her tears became more visible with proximity.  
  
"Perhaps I should have come sooner," he decided as he reached, even now hesitant, and wiped her tears away, not even fazed when she looked down and shook her head to make him stop. And he obliged.

"Yeah, you have like, really crappy timing," she jested with a sniffle, wiping the last remnants of her weeping.

He looked solemn then, his expression actually showing his age for once. "I'm sorry for your loss.”

She raised her brows dully and rolled her eyes again. “Which one?” Klaus frowned, perturbed by her tone and lack of empathy. When she caught sight of his confusion, she sighed. “Let’s just say it’s been a really rough year. And today might be the roughest of all.”

“What can I do?”

No questioning, no sympathizing, just pure selflessness. It would seem so out of character to anyone but her. Instead, it had grown into something expected. He would cater to her happiness as long as she would let him.

“You don’t have to do anything, Klaus. I’ll be fine.”

“As is evident by your current appearance,” he gestured. He tilted his head. “Talk to me, Caroline.”

She pressed her lips thin and looked away, blinking as more tears welled at his sentiment. It was the first time someone was asking her to open up since her mother died. The first time someone was actually interested in how she was doing and wanted to hear it directly _from_ her. It made her throat tighten, and again the tears rolled, but she refused to let the sob out.

Without delay, Klaus pulled her in against his chest and nestled his chin against her forehead, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, holding her to him tightly. No sooner did Caroline begin to push her hands against his chest to clutch his jacket and let the emotions run freely through her body. She shook as she sobbed, her tears soaking through his henley.

“I miss her,” she weeped, voice thick and raw. “I miss my mom. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell her I loved her one last time.”

Klaus’ brows lowered into a hard frown as he stared outward, stroking her hair in soothing continuously. He stayed silent as she wept, never loosening his grip, waiting first for her to loosen hers. After a few minutes, the sobs softened and eventually silenced. At some point her head had turned so that her ear was against his heart, and she listened to the beating until the tears had stopped. When they’d been quiet for some time, Klaus ventured to peek down at her and she lifted her head to meet his eyes with a weary but appreciative look. He lessened his hold and she ducked her head, wiping her eyes.

“All right now, love?” She nodded, almost whispering a “yes” in response as she still avoided his gaze. “Let’s get you inside and out of the cold.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her back in. She walked out of his embrace to splash some water on her face at the kitchen sink, but when she reached for a paper towel from the counter, she paused in confusion. The cookies were out and plated, but wait. Weren’t they burnt? There was also a soft Christmas ballad humming from the other room. She glanced at Klaus curiously but his face was guarded and he only offered a raise of his brows in response. He watched her with a secretive smile as she cautiously meandered into the living room.

She was stopped in her tracks at the door way, a soft gasp of astonishment leaving her mouth ajar. Klaus paused just behind her, laying a hand at the small of her back as he watched her eyes grow huge.

It was an _actual_ Christmas miracle. The entire living room was finished in Christmas trimmings - exactly the way she had wanted it.

The sorry excuse for a wreath above the mantle had been replaced with an enormous extravagant one that had twinkling lights and a ruby bow that was half its size. Under it the mantle was alight with a perfectly symphony of toy soldiers all surrounded by a twinkling garland of pine and holly. Beneath it a warm welcoming fire was crackling, filling the air with a smoky aroma that mingled with the pine of the christmas tree. And the window seat was now lined with gold potted poinsettias, around them the winter village spread between the three sills just the way it should have been. Two stockings had been hung above the fire, one in pink that read her name in silver cursive, the other red with a gold block lettered _Mom_.

The tree, which now looked fuller and stood more erect, was lit up and its branches were sprinkled delicately with faux snow. Every ornament sparkled and hung in precise position, including the homemade ones that had amassed through the years. Front and center was a framed picture of a young Caroline and her mother inside a blue glittered popsicle stick snowflake that she had made in the third grade. Her throat swelled as a lump rose higher, tears stinging her eyes once again.  
  
Atop the coffee table sat Bonnie’s centerpiece, still lit, but now accompanied by an array of red and gold candles. Beside it sat champagne chilling in an ice bucket, two flute glasses hanging off the side.She half sobbed a laugh when she saw it, reminiscing. _Is that our thing?  
  
_ "I went to the liberty of calling in a few friends last minute,” he finally explained.  
  
Caroline looked around, amazed. Her eyebrows couldn't get any higher and she was certain she hadn't any breath left to steal away. He had done so much for her in so little time, but it was everything. And that’s when it hit her.  
  
"You didn't just come to town," she accused, turning to face him. "How long were you watching me?"  
  
"Long enough to see that no one was listening."  
  
"Yeah, well, big surprise there.” She returned her attention to the decor, marveling at the exquisiteness. Her mother would love this…  
  
"I don't just mean today, Caroline."  
  
She looked back at him, lifting a brow as her heart stuttered to a halt. He cocked his head with a coy look, eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher her reaction, waiting for her response.  
  
“When did you come back?”  
  
“When I got word of your mother’s passing.”  
  
She let out a breath of disbelief. “You’ve been keeping tabs?” He blushed, gracefully abashed, but when he opened his mouth to speak she halted him. “Wait. You’ve been here that long and you didn’t tell me?”  
  
“You needed time to grieve. I didn’t want to intrude on that.  
  
“So you just watched me be miserable instead? Let me turn my humanity off, burn my mother’s letter - ”  
  
“What would you have done if I had shown up on your doorstep?” He lifted a brow with a soft, questioning hum. “Would you not have turned me away in the state you were in?”  
  
She bit her lip, looking away in annoyance that he was _always_ right. It wasn’t fair that she was so predictable. He looked down, regretting his harshness a bit.  
  
“Besides,” he added quietly, glancing up from beneath brows with faux innocence. “I had a promise to uphold.”  
  
“I didn’t think you actually meant that…”  
  
He smiled. “I didn’t.”  
  
Their eyes locked then in a moment of understanding. While butterflies roamed her stomach, heat flourished in her cheeks and everything she had felt for him, everything she had locked away for the last year, came rushing back. Judging by the way he was looking at her, it had never even left _him.  
  
_ He cleared his throat and scanned the room, nodding curtly in approval. “I think we covered all bases here.”  
  
She smiled, heart warmed by his sudden awkward shyness. It only appeared in rare times when she’d inadvertently caught him off guard with something she said or did. But she loved it.  
  
“Thank you.” She waved around the room, taking it all in again. “For doing all this.” She looked back at him briefly then nodded, averting her eyes once more. “For not keeping your promise…”  
  
He swallowed, his brows twitching in surprise and endearment. Then she did something even more brazen. She kissed him on the cheek, blushing when she shrank back. His lips parted, eyes softening at the gesture. His heart thumped at the surprise surge of affection and again the awkward little boy returned.  He swallowed nervously and deviated by motioning to the tree. Before she could spot what he was referring to he had gotten up and plucked a navy box with a white silk ribbon wrapped around it from underneath. Caroline couldn’t help but smile. Of course he'd never pass up an opportunity to give her something lavish. But what he didn’t realize was that he’d already given her the best thing he could, just by showing up.  
  
When he sat back down and handed it to her, she flashed him an ironic grin and shook her head as she tugged the ribbon loose. She lifted the lid and let out a soft huff, awed. It was an oval, diamond antique locket with a pale blue gem in the center, matching the blue of her eyes. She touched it gingerly, the details of the design so intricate and immaculate.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.  
  
“Open it.”  
  
She glanced at him warily then did as he said, her heart flipping in her chest. Her brows slowly raised as she glimpsed the two little pictures inside. One was a photo of her taken the night of the gala held at the Mikaelson mansion. The other was of her mother, smiling warmly, the way she’d always smiled at her daughter, full of love and pride. Caroline touched the little photo, smiling as her heart filled with fondness - for her mother and for him. She took a deep, unsteady breath, forcing down the lump that was trying to rise. Too many tears had been shed. She wouldn’t risk anymore. But she rewarded him with a heartfelt smile, wishing she had something better than a ‘thank you’.  
  
“I didn’t get you a gift,” she lamented.  
  
He smiled, dimples giving him away. “On the contrary,” he lifted a brow for emphasis, letting her see for the first time all of the vulnerability and ease she made him feel, “you _are_ my gift, Caroline.”  
  
A swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she locked eyes with his. There was only a brief moment of hesitation and then her lips were brushing against his in the sweetest of kisses. It felt familiar and yet foreign, and altogether like _home._ When they broke away, she smiled and let all of the tension built up from the night pour out of her in a heavy sigh.  
  
 _Perfect._

 


End file.
